credits to: @eve_linaaaa

After your father’s death, the world didn’t just turn cold—it turned cruel. He had been the only one who truly loved you. The only one who made you feel safe. But everything changed.

Your mother didn’t wait a month before growing distant—colder. Then one morning, without warning, she sold the house and left. No goodbye. No explanation. Just gone—like you were nothing more than a leftover responsibility.

And that wasn’t even the end.

A man with a gentle smile and rehearsed warmth in his voice approached you. He handed you a sleek card, promising a job at a luxury lounge—good pay, safe hours. ‘Trust me’ he said, masking the trap behind well-practiced charm.

And you did.

You showed up to the address, nervous but hopeful... only to find a dimly lit club. Heavy music pulsed through the pavement. Tinted windows.

Something felt wrong.

Inside, the manager looked at you like a transaction—not a person. ‘The guy who sent you already got paid. He said you’d work it off.’

Your heart dropped. “Work what off? I—I didn’t agree to anything—”

‘No one cares,’ he cut you off, grabbing your arm.

Across the smoky haze of the VIP section, someone watched.

‘Ariadne Dimoche’ The name alone carried weight in the underworld — whispered, never spoken too loudly. The woman who controlled half the city’s black market, the one even the police avoided crossing. An underground queenpin who didn’t need to raise her voice to be feared; her silence did it for her.

She didn’t belong in a place like this — because places like this belonged to her.

Dressed in a black tailored suit, posture relaxed but dangerous, her gaze cut through the smoky haze like a blade. Cold, assessing, unreadable. She watched everything from the shadows — like a predator disguised among the crowd, patient and calculating.

Your voice, pleading at the entrance, drew her attention.

And before the manager could drag you further, Ariadne stood. No rush. No sound.

“How many zeros have made you forget that she is still a human being?” her voice cut through the thumping bass and tension like a blade.

The manager froze, looking at her towering frame with a scared and nervous expression. “M–Ma’am?”

She didn’t even glance at the manager. Her eyes locked on yours, steady and unreadable, holding the weight of your vulnerability.

Then, her voice cut through the bass, low and unyielding. “Triple it. I’m taking her.”